


Not With Or Without

by emilyenrose



Series: hatesex 'verse [2]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Hatesex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-21
Updated: 2010-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-13 00:36:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilyenrose/pseuds/emilyenrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evan's already stumbling over, "Well - afterwards - when we - I mean I -" before Johnny actually remembers that 'Vancouver' could mean more than one thing; the thing where Evan won an Olympic gold, and the thing where this apparently inspired him to get over his issues for long enough to give Johnny a slightly kinky handjob.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not With Or Without

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to Jocondite, who is to blame.

Johnny simply doesn't think about it.

Or, well, of course he thinks about it a little, but the truth is that he just isn't that interested in thinking about Evan Lysacek. He doesn't analyze. He takes the available evidence (Evan wins Olympic gold on the strength of his awesome powers of hetero, uses it to go after the faggiest man he knows), adds it to previously known facts (Evan regularly has one-night stands with ice dancer men with presumably no taste; Evan dislikes Johnny; Evan is a douche) and reaches the same conclusion he's had for years, which is that Evan is a semi-closeted hypocritical headcase with issues. It's not the fact that he has issues which offends Johnny as such - hey, Johnny has whole magazine racks full of issues some days - but the way he pretends they totally don't exist, nope, Evan is just a nice normal all-American boy with a gold medal and no problems at all.

Johnny would actually quite like to have a gold medal and no problems at all. He'd be a lot better at it than Evan is, and he'd have more fun.

But he plays nice, and forgets about that night in Vancouver because what the hell else can you do (and perhaps a little because Tanith is still residually fond of Evan, in a pitying sort of way, and begged Johnny in a roundabout way to have mercy on his issues. At least, that's what Johnny thinks she was saying.) He grits his teeth and goes on with his life - because his life is not over, not yet, even though he's not an Olympic medallist and never will be, now.

He's heard if you repeat things often enough in your own head, you start believing them.

It's pretty easy not to think about Evan at Vancouver because Johnny is actually doing fairly well on not thinking about Vancouver at all, on the grounds that avoidance is nearly the same as acceptance. The only time he slips is in an interview, where he ends up angry enough that his mouth runs away with him and he's saying bright, brittle, suggestive things and winking at the camera.

And all right, maybe it wasn't fair to do that to a guy with issues, because Evan's reaction is way over the top. He accuses Johnny of being an attention whore (which is true) and a money-grubber (which is also true) and talentless (which fucking isn't) - and Johnny has never, ever known how to politely back away from a quarrel, so when he's presented with Evan's words on live TV - and jesus, these people seriously just live to make his life hard, don't they? - he thinks _oh, you're on_ and smirks at the camera and calls Evan a slore.

He walks away from that interview with the lovely warm feeling inside, knowing Evan's going to be on UrbanDictionary tonight trying to find out what that is.

Later, when he's come down from the sharp high of fury and his mom has called him and said some things about the kind of language she doesn't think is appropriate _from my son or anyone else, Johnny_ , he admits to himself that he maybe went too far. Evan has issues, all right. Johnny can be the bigger man. He can let Evan have his issues and ignore them. He can rise above. He can go on enjoying being far more fabulous than Evan could ever be and having far more fun than Evan could ever have.

Johnny actually manages to talk himself round into feeling sorry for Evan for about ten minutes, because it's terribly sad when someone doesn't feel free to express their true self. Johnny is all about expressing your true self. He feels so virtuous after that that he resolves to apologise to Evan next time he's unfortunate enough to run into him.

Of course he forgets the resolution by morning, but it's the thought that counts.

Johnny doesn't actually see Evan again until nearly a year after that night in Vancouver. It's been a long busy year, and maybe Johnny hasn't quite convinced himself yet that his life isn't finished, but he definitely feels more alive than he did. It's something to know that he's still something special on ice, even if he's not a medal winner any more - that he still looks amazing, moves brilliantly, can make a crowd go hushed and then go wild. Johnny fucking loves his life, loves his fans, loves celebrity.

When they meet it's at a one-off Team USA exhibition in San Francisco. Johnny's in a good mood going in - San Fran is one of the few cities on the left coast he actually considers bearable, his TV show just got picked up for another season after all, and he's flying out to Europe next week for the start of a tour where he's skating half a dozen shows in France and Belgium before going straight onto St Petersburg for what he considers to be a well-deserved holiday. He feels so benign towards the whole world that when some idiot reporter shoves a microphone under his nose and demands to know how he feels about meeting Evan again, 'for the first time since Vancouver, isn't that right, Johnny?' he smiles and claims he's looking forward to it. "Evan's a great skater, and in the past he's been a great competitor," he says easily. "It'll be really awesome to skate with him with the pressure off. We can goof around and not worry about having to face off later."

He leaves the reporter looking baffled and no doubt giving herself a headache trying to make that match up to the last thing Johnny put on the record about Evan (which, come to think of it, was probably the slore comment.) He isn't even lying. When Johnny's in a good mood, Evan seems laughable, almost pitiable, and weirdly likeable. It's only when he's pissed off that he remembers all the reasons that Evan's actually an asshole.

Rehearsal goes well. Johnny mostly does programs he's choreographed himself these days, and it means what he's doing always suits him perfectly. Sometimes he thinks regretfully about the things he doesn't regularly do anymore, the punishing competition jumps that his protesting body can't count on any longer. Well, he can still put on a damn good show. Odds are that most of the people in the audience tonight will be there to see him, and Johnny's vain enough that that gives him a thrill of satisfaction and pushes him to make everything cleaner, sharper, sexier. On his last run-through of the new Gaga medley Jeremy starts hooting and applauding every time Johnny shakes his hips. Johnny smirks at him and starts playing up to it, throwing pouts over his shoulder and blowing kisses - when Mirai cracks up she gets a blown kiss and an extra shimmy, which makes the skaters she's talking to take notice, and by the time Johnny finishes the routine he's got a snickering cheering clapping audience of his colleagues. "Thank you, thank you," he says grandly, and gives them a bow.

For the first time all evening, then, he notices Evan. Normally Evan is hard to miss - it's the way he goes around being head and shoulders taller than everybody and _deeply awkward_ \- but Johnny had barely registered that he was there until he spots Evan standing near Mirai in the little crowd. He claps once or twice and then stops when he realises that everyone else has already moved on to making fun of Jeremy. It's like he's trying desperately to pass for human, Johnny thinks, but can't quite figure out how.

Evan catches up with him in the locker room. "You looked good out there earlier," he says. "You're going to do great in the show."

"I know," says Johnny, and aims what is meant to be a smirk in Evan's direction. It actually comes out as an honest grin, because Johnny's mood is still soaring. Evan is -

"Are you trying to smile back?" says Johnny, abruptly amused. Evan seems to have started trying to smile but gotten shellshocked halfway through and forgotten to finish. He'll never pass for human at this rate. "Let me help. What you do is, you turn your mouth up at the corners."

"Johnny!" protests Evan.

"That's more like it," Johnny says. "I know it's tough now but if you work really hard, truly give it your all, and then codewhore hard enough for the judges, maybe one day -"

Evan flinches. He's not smiling anymore.

"Oops, was that hurtful?" Johnny says. "How nasty of me. If you'll excuse me." His good mood is deflating just like that.

"I was hoping we could talk," Evan blurts behind him.

Johnny turns in the doorway. "Talk about what?" he says flatly.

"About Vancouver."

"Do I look like I want to talk about Vancouver?" Johnny asks. "Oh wait, you can't do facial expressions. I don't want to talk about Vancouver. Excuse me."

"I wanted to say sorry!"

The last vestiges of Johnny's good mood evaporate. He folds his arms and fixes Evan with his most poisonous glare. "You're sorry for _winning_?" he says. "Or, no, wait, you're sorry if you winning made me cry? Don't worry, Evan, it didn't." Much.

Evan gapes at him. "Sorry for wi - of course not! How could you think I was talking about -"

"What else would you be talking about?"

Johnny's not even kidding. It takes him a moment or two to parse Evan's slow flush. Evan's already stumbling over, "Well - afterwards - when we - I mean I -" before Johnny actually remembers that 'Vancouver' could mean more than one thing; the thing where Evan won an Olympic gold, and the thing where this apparently inspired him to get over his issues for long enough to give Johnny a slightly kinky handjob.

Just because he gets it doesn't mean he's going to have mercy. "What on earth _are_ you talking about, Evan?" he asks.

Evan's flush has gone blotchy under his tan. "You know what I'm talking about!" he says, but there's a thread of uncertainty in his voice.

"I really have no idea," says Johnny meanly, and adds, "Did anything else interesting even happen at Vancouver?"

"You've got to remember," Evan says. "I remember and I wasn't even that drunk - and you hadn't been drinking at all -"

Huh. Johnny hadn't realised Evan was running on Dutch courage that night, but he's not surprised. He's still going to make Evan say it. He raises his eyebrows, the picture of bored incomprehension.

"When we -" Evan bursts out loudly, and then seems to remember where they are, glancing around nervously before finishing, " _you know_."

"When we you know," Johnny repeats flatly. "Oh, you mean when we had sex?"

Evan looks crippled with embarrassment.

"So you're apologising for having sex with me, Evan?" says Johnny. "That's okay. I'm sorry I had sex with you, too. Talk about adding insult to injury."

A brief look of outrage is quickly smoothed back into orange submission, and Evan stands up straighter. He seems to be reading off an internal script. "I wanted to apologise to you for - the way I propositioned you, and the way I behaved to you. I did things that were, um, unfair and - coercive, and I thought about it a lot afterwards and I felt - I feel wrong about it. It was bad." He doesn't look any happier for having made his little speech, but at least he seems to be done, waiting.

If Johnny had a little more self-control, he'd sweep out at this point and leave Evan crestfallen. That would be an amazing way to take advantage of this deeply unexpected windfall. Unfortunately Johnny is no more capable of letting someone else get the last word than he is of flying, so instead he says, "Oh honey. It was pretty bad, yes, but I've had worse." He pauses dramatically. "Not often, but I've certainly had worse. When I was a teenager, maybe."

Evan's redder than ever. "I'm serious, Johnny. I just want you to know that. What I did was -"

Johnny slaps him.

It's an open-handed palm across the face and Evan is - silenced isn't the word for it, it's more like he's just been frozen. He goes absolutely still, his mouth still half-open around the next word. "You want to apologise for coercing me," Johnny says. "You think you forced me, is that what you're saying? You took advantage."

"I -" Evan begins.

Johnny slaps him again, feeling the thrill of his rising temper. This time it's even harder, enough that Evan's head actually snaps a little to the side. "And this is how you want to do it?" Johnny says. "This is how you were going to say sorry? A nice little speech in the locker room, a year later?"

"I'm sorry," Evan says.

"That helps," says Johnny - sneers Johnny. "As long as you're _sorry_. Oh my, Evan, you know, if you'd actually coerced me this would be the most disgusting case of too little too late I'd ever seen." Something tight in Evan's expression that's been there all along goes a little loose as Johnny continues, "You didn't, of course."

Apparently Evan's got a one-track mind, though, because he keeps trying to apologise. "I still shouldn't have -"

"Shut up." Johnny says, and Evan goes as quiet as if he has just been slapped again.

"What do you really want?" asks Johnny. "After all that. Why are you bringing this up now?"

"I just wanted you to know," Evan repeats, and Johnny feels the anger boil in him, flow down his spine and stiffen it. "Really," he says. "Had to get it off your chest? Been dwelling, Evan? Can't stop thinking about me?"

"Fuck you," says Evan. "I'm sorry I have a conscience, then. Jesus, to think I was actually worried about you -"

"That's so sweet," Johnny says. "I'm so flattered. I always wanted to be worried about by an unattractive asshole."

"I'm an asshole?" demands Evan. "Fuck you, seriously Johnny. I haven't done anything to you right now, I just let you fucking well hit me -"

"You probably liked it," says Johnny. "You like it when I touch you, after all, don't you? Apparently you like it so much you don't stop to check if I'm into it first. Want me to do it again?"

"No!"

Johnny goes for him anyway. He's flying on a combination of adrenaline and icy fury, and Evan's cheek is marked with a visible handprint that Johnny wants to match his hand to again, hard and fast. Evan dodges awkwardly and that makes him back up into a corner between the lockers and the wall. Johnny follows, breathing hard, and grabs at Evan's collar not even knowing what he's going to do next -

and stops.

"You do like it," he murmurs, watching the flicker of panic in Evan's dark eyes.

The realisation feels like power. Johnny brings his hand up from Evan's ugly popped collar to rest two fingers against his throat, feels the frantic pounding in the big artery there. Christ, Evan's heartrate must have doubled. "Just from this?" Johnny asks, glancing back at Evan's face.

Evan avoids his gaze and says, "No. Get off me."

Johnny just laughs. He doesn't have any plan at all for what's going to happen next - he's too busy enjoying this. There's some vague thoughts in his head already about the kinds of jokes he can make when Evan's around now, the beautiful nervous flinching Evan's going to be doing knowing that Johnny knows this about him -

He's actually on the point of stepping away and ending this whole fucked-up little encounter when Evan apparently decides that he's had enough and tries to push Johnny away from him.

And that just won't do. Johnny's reaction is automatic. He twists away from the hand Evan's using to shove awkwardly at him and steps in even closer, close enough that their bodies are pressed together. Evan is stiff and nearly vibrating with tension, and Johnny doesn't think twice about reaching up to twine his arms around Evan's neck like a lover, digging the long nails of both hands into Evan's back under his shirt.

Evan lets out a faint choked noise. His shoulders sag, his head falls forward. When Johnny rakes his nails up hard across the back of Evan's neck, there's a weird moment of stumbling and gasping and it's not until Evan's managed to get himself upright again that Johnny realises, fucking hell, he just made Lysacek's knees buckle. Just with his nails.

He smirks.

"I'm leaving," says Evan in an uneven voice.

"Okay," says Johnny, still smirking. "Enjoy jerking off."

"Fuck you -"

Johnny's not wrong and they both know it.  
_

The show is amazing.

Johnny skates brilliantly, high as a kite on the residual thrum of adrenaline and victory and yes, okay, maybe a bit of arousal. The crowd wail and cheer and love him and he loves them right back, blowing kisses off the tips of his fingers and winking at a good-looking young couple in the front row who both blush matching shades of red. Adorable. He doesn't see Evan skate because he's halfway through a costume change, but he assumes someone will mention it to him if Evan's reaction to their little locker room interlude is to have a nervous breakdown on ice. No one says anything, so apparently it didn't happen. What a shame.

Afterwards there's an afterparty where Johnny spends a lot of time flirting outrageously with Adam Rippon, who is not at all Johnny's type as well as being far too young and straight, but who is absolutely hilarious when he's trying to match Johnny innuendo for ridiculous innuendo. Johnny's conversations often turn out to be spectator sports, so he's not surprised to feel watched. He assumes it's Evan staring but when he looks around there are actually a fair number of people listening in, none of them tall, dark and orange. Evan isn't visible.

Johnny promptly forgets about him.

He wanders back to his room around two in the morning, more or less sober and with his good mood from the morning nearly totally restored. When he throws himself down on the bed he lets himself think again about Evan and his weird little getting-slapped thing. It's actually kind of hot. And hilarious, of course, because it's Evan.

Johnny wonders how the jerking off went (he hasn't the slightest doubt Evan did jerk off) – did Evan do it quietly and quickly, trying not to let himself think? Or is he screwed up enough that he did think while he touched himself, thought about Johnny hitting him and hurting him and scratching at his neck? Maybe he bit down on his own lip, all guilty and desperate (Johnny's got a hand on his own cock now) trying to pretend it wasn't Johnny and the pain that he was thinking about, getting off to, wanting –

What? Johnny is vain. He likes being wanted.

He palms his cock again in a lazy way. If he were slightly less lazy, he'd take his pants off first, but it was a good party and Johnny's comfortable. Would it be a really bad idea to show up in Evan's room and pick up where he left off? (Yes, almost certainly.) Is Johnny in the kind of mood where he talks himself out of bad ideas? (No; he almost never is.) Johnny lets himself roll the thought around in his head while he brushes his thumb over the head of his cock. He could show up at Evan's door just the way Evan showed up at his in Vancouver, walk in and just take control. He could try the fingernails-in-the-neck thing again, see if it works a second time, see if he can use it to get Evan down to his knees. Something inside Johnny is crowing wickedly at the thought of Evan forced to his knees like that. He could –

Who the hell is knocking at this time of night?

Johnny reluctantly takes his hand out of his pants. He suspects that by the time he gets back to it he'll be too much closer to completely sober to start that particular fantasy again, which makes him grumpy. He wrenches open the door and immediately says, "The fuck?"

Evan glares at him. It seems to be automatic. Perhaps his face is just glare-shaped when Johnny is around. "What is the matter with you?" demands Johnny. "I was busy. Get lost."

"Busy with what?" asks Evan. Johnny stares at him and then pointedly glances down at his crotch. Evan's eyes drop down Johnny's body in return, lingering on his bare chest, the unbuttoned fly of Johnny's jeans. When he meets Johnny's gaze again, his expression changes just a little - his eyes widening, his lips parting.

"What are you even doing here?" Johnny says. "Are you really just insane? I definitely don't remember inviting you."

"I can see that," Evan says.

"So go away," says Johnny.

"I came to say -"

" _Go away_. Unless you want to stick around and watch me jerk off."

Wrong thing to say, Johnny realises almost at once - Evan turns bright red under his tan, blush clearly visible in the stark light of the hotel corridor lights, and won't meet Johnny's eyes. "Oh god, you do," says Johnny, half appalled. "How desperate are you?"

"I don't," Evan snaps. "Not everything's about you, for god's sake."

"You _so do_ ," says Johnny. He's taunting now and probably sounds kind of middle-school, but whatever. He leans against the side of the door and slides his own hand down his chest, hooking his fingers in his own waistband - putting on a show. Watching Evan try not to gape is the funniest thing that's happened all evening. "It's okay, Evan," Johnny murmurs in his best sexy voice. "You want to watch, you can."

"I don't want to!"

Johnny hits him. It's almost impossible not to.

The decision is a split-second thing. While Evan's still shuddering from the slap, Johnny holds out his stinging hand, palm spread, fingers extended. "Right now I'm serious," he says. "But the offer ends in five - four - three - two -"

Before he can finish folding down the last finger for one, Evan shoves him backward across the threshold and pulls the door shut with a bang behind them both.

"- one," Johnny finishes. "My my, Evan."

"There was someone in the hall!" Evan hisses. "Did you want them to see that?"

"I don't care," says Johnny, though he'll probably be at least a little embarrassed in the morning if anyone he actually likes has spotted him coming onto something as badly tanned as Evan. "Do you?"

Evan turns blotchy. "Do I care if anyone sees you half-naked and - making sex faces at me?"

"I think everyone in the USFSA has seen me half-naked and making sex faces at a foot massager," Johnny says. "I agree the foot massager is less embarrassing, if that helps."

"I hate you so much," says Evan in heartfelt tones. Johnny laughs to himself. He didn't know Evan even had heartfelt tones. He flings himself back down on the bed. "What are you doing?" says Evan, going from heartfelt to wooden in an eyeblink.

Johnny turns his head and smirks at him, and then pulls one leg up so it's bent and runs his own hand down his bare chest again, sliding it back up to finger a nipple. "I was in the middle of something," he says. "In case you'd forgotten. I did invite you to watch. Just stay there and keep quiet."

"I'm leaving."

Right on cue, there's a crash in the corridor and a jumble of shouting drunken voices - Johnny can hear Adam and Mirai at least. Sounds like the kids are having fun. Evan winces. "Looks like you're staying, Evan baby," Johnny says, and stretches theatrically on the queen-size bed, watching Evan try not to watch the splay of his limbs.

"Johnny," says Evan quietly, "this isn't fair."

He sounds a little desperate. Johnny chuckles softly to himself and pushes his hand into his pants again. He arches his back a little and lets the movement help him slide them down, down over his hips - not all the way, just far enough that Evan makes a small appalled noise.

"Still watching, Evan?" Johnny asks as he gives himself a couple of slow, showy strokes. His hand still brushes the fabric of his pants on the downstroke. His voice is low.

There's no answer. Johnny turns to look and finds Evan staring. He's standing with one hand reaching aimlessly for a door handle that's a good two feet further away than he apparently thinks it is, and his eyes are wide. He looks trapped.

"You'll get a better view from the chair," Johnny suggests softly.

Evan swallows hard. His hands fall to his sides. It's only one long step from where he's standing to the uncomfortable hotel armchair; he doesn't so much sit down as collapse, and his long limbs look ungainly cramped up in it. His face is as red as Johnny's ever seen it. There's still a mark on his cheek from where Johnny hit him earlier.

Johnny lets his head fall back and his eyes close, and strokes himself again. "I was thinking about you, you know," he says. "Before I was so rudely interrupted, anyway." He opens his eyes in slits to check for a reaction, but Evan seems to have reached maximum freaked-out already and is just listening quietly, his eyes half-closed. "I did enjoy our little talk earlier," Johnny says. "Did you? I know you did. Were you thinking about me when you came - _oh_ \- afterwards?"

He waits. When Evan doesn't still doesn't reply, he stills his hand on his cock and turns to look at him. Evan's switched to staring at the carpet, which won't do. "Evan," Johnny says softly. "Evan."

Evan licks his lips, not looking up. "Yeah," he says.

"Yeah?" says Johnny.

"Yeah. I thought about you."

"Look at me."

Evan doesn't move.

" _Look._ "

His head comes up and Johnny meets his eyes. "Keep looking, Evan," he says as he starts to jerk himself off again. "Don't you dare look away."

He lets himself fall back into the fantasy from earlier, imagining Evan down on his knees, lips parting, staring up at Johnny with Johnny's nails in the back of his neck - it's easy to do. It's easier now that he's got a point of reference for the look in Evan's eyes, turned on, terrified, just the way Evan is watching Johnny now. Johnny jerks himself off all the way, comes over his own hand and his pants and the bedspread, and Evan watches it all and doesn't look away.

It's not a great orgasm - there's too much of an edge of awkwardness in the air for Johnny to really relax and get into it - but he feels good afterwards just the same, not relaxed and sleepy the way he was intending to feel before his jerk-off session got interrupted, but still - strong. Alive. Powerful. He closes his eyes and breathes out, smiling to himself - and maybe it looks a little feral, because he hears sudden movement from the direction of the armchair. When he looks over Evan's stood up and looking hard at a fixed point slightly to Johnny's left and six inches above him.

"You can go now," Johnny says. There's no bite in the words - he doesn't really need to snipe at Evan, not after that. He's won this round already.

Evan is apparently braver than he's been acting, because instead of running for it he squares his shoulders and looks Johnny - well, not in the eyes, but in the hairline, which isn't bad going, really. He says, "The reason I came was to - look. This was just once, okay?"

"You think I want repeats?" says Johnny, amused.

"No - I meant -" Evan runs a hand backwards through his hair, ruffling it.

"You meant this is too fucked up to keep happening," Johnny says helpfully.

Evan looks relieved.

"I agree," Johnny says.

"Good," say Evan. "Then -"

"Doesn't mean it won't happen again," says Johnny.

"What?"

Johnny smirks at him. "Not when you want it this badly," he says. "I promise I won't do anything. But you will."

Evan crosses his arms. "No I won't."

"You've started it every time so far," Johnny says. "You can keep starting it." He props himself up on his elbows. He knows he looks like a hot mess, sticky and flushed with his pants round his thighs. It's the confidence that does it, the strength of the smirk or the sneer that means Evan won't even notice that Johnny's the only one in a compromising position here. "I won't start anything," he says. "I won't even look at you. But next time you come to me, you're going to suck my cock."

He sees the words hit. Evan makes a tiny abortive movement that could be a flinch or a tightly controlled shudder. Johnny knows which one he thinks it is.

"Aren't you going?" he says.

This time, Evan flees.


End file.
